


The Price of Heroism

by ephemeral_wishes



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jewish Character, Other, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_wishes/pseuds/ephemeral_wishes
Summary: At Pietro's funeral, Clint and Wanda share a quiet moment.





	The Price of Heroism

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [MaximoffFicExchange2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MaximoffFicExchange2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> A post AoU Pietro Maximoff funeral fic. Clint telling Wanda about Nathaniel Pietro Barton. More information on what life in Sokovia was like for the twins. Reactions from the other Avengers could be nice, but are not necessary.
> 
> Another prompt fulfilled. :) A little closer to my usual stuff.  
> I am not Jewish so I did a bit of research, but please let me know if I made any mistakes. <3  
> Enjoy. :)

Her brother is not dead. 

Telling herself that is the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Even though he’s now in the ground, even though he is really and truly gone, Wanda knows that she will completely break if she truly accepts that he’s gone. She adjusts the strap of her long, black dress and nods politely at the few people coming up to her, offering their condolences. Her brother was a hero, they say. 

Is. Her brother _is_ a hero. He’s not a was. Was means gone. 

"Hamakom y'nachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availai tziyon ee yerushalayim." 

Wanda turns around in surprise. Clint is standing behind her, hands deep in his pockets of an ill fitting suit. She nods slightly.

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you. Your brother saved my life.” 

Wanda feels like screaming. She didn’t want her brother to save anyone’s life. She didn’t want him to be a hero. She wanted him to be with her, where he’s always been, where he’s meant to be! 

“Sweetheart…” Clint reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder, just as she realizes that she’s really and truly crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Wanda doesn’t want to cry in front of all the other Avengers, and she thinks that Clint can tell. The rest of them are gathered together, speaking quietly around the grave. 

It’s in a pretty spot. She likes it. He would have liked it too. Lots of yellow flowers around it, which he loved, because those were Mama’s favorites too. 

Clint leads her shaking frame away, inside where they won’t be seen. She is grateful to him for allowing her a moment to break. 

“He can’t be dead,” she cries softly, “He can’t be dead.”

“Shhh. I know, I know.” 

As soon as they’re alone, she finds herself leaning into his arms. She’s sobbing loudly into his shoulder. 

She won’t ever be the same again. Her heart has been torn out, stomped on, and now she’s empty inside. 

“I need him, I need him, I can’t live without him.”

Clint rubs circles on her back, and she’s surprised that she finds it soothing. Then she feels guilty. How dare she allow herself comfort when the other half of her soul, the greatest person who ever lived, is dead in the ground?

She pulls back, wiping her eyes in vain. The tears won’t stop coming. 

“He didn’t like it when I cried,” she whispers, “I was always the one who cried at everything and he would be the angry one. But when I cried, he always held me. He told me everything would be okay.”

Clint sits her down on a bench, positioning himself next to her. “He loved you very much. We could all tell.” 

“I know he loved me,” there’s a hint of defensiveness in her voice, “He told me every day. And I told him.”

Clint squeezes her hand. “Tell me more about him.”

Wanda doesn’t know how much more she can say while forming coherent sentences. She’s going to be an unintelligible mess by the end of this conversation. 

Stil, she can’t bring herself to care too much. Not about that. Clint, oddly enough, seems like a safe place. 

So she lets it out in a rush. Through her tears she tells him about how they held onto each other after the bombs fell and they were trapped under that horrible bed for two days. She tells him about how they had been fine with the idea of a bomb going off and killing them because at least they would go together. 

The orphanages, she says, were hell. She doesn’t go into much detail, because those are memories that she never wants to talk about. 

“But we had each other,” she tells him, “It was his idea to run away. I cried. I didn’t want to run because I was a coward. He was brave.” 

She kicks herself for using _was_ and then corrects herself. “He _is_ brave.”

“You two loved each other,” he says, “I know that much. I know that he never would have thought you were a coward—Ultron is dead because of you.”

“I should have died.”

“Don’t say that. You’re only starting out your life,” he says quietly, “You’re still young, Wanda. You’re a kid, and you get to-“

“No,” she shakes her head, “I don’t want to-to be without him.”   
Clint nods. She’s surprised at the understanding in his voice. “I felt that way when my brother died.”

She glances at him. “Y-you had a b-brother too?”

“Barney. I still miss him. That’s the thing. You’re never gonna stop missing him and I can’t pretend that you’re going to be able to replace what was taken from you. But you can heal. And I’m not going to force you to do it alone.” 

Wanda sniffles. “When we were little, he cut my hair. And I tried to cut his. It looked awful. My parents thought it was hilarious. I don’t know why I remember that so much.” 

“It’s the little things,” he says, “Those are the memories that’ll keep you going.” 

Wanda thinks that she’d rather remember her brother like that than as someone who was stuck between starving and begging for money. The streets had been far too cruel to them and they had grown up too fast. 

She wasn’t sure if it had been better than being beaten and berated in an orphanage daily. They’d always known they wouldn’t get adopted. 

They were damaged. Nobody wanted Sokovian children. 

“I wanted to ask your permission on something,” Clint says slowly, “You can say no if you want. Okay? I’ll understand.”

She finds herself able to better compose herself. “Okay.”

“My wife-Laura-she’s due soon. To have a baby. Little boy.”

Wanda loves babies. She offers him a half smile. “That is very exciting.”   
“We wanted to name him Nathaniel, but we couldn’t come up with a middle name. My other son, his is already after my brother,” Clint says, “But…I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your brother. I wouldn’t be alive to see the birth of my son. And I wanted to honor that.” 

It takes Wanda a moment to really register what he’s talking about. Then the light clicks on and her eyes widen. “Oh.” 

“You can say no,” Clint says, “I won’t do it unless you say-“

“Yes.”

He seems taken aback. “I-you can have more time to think it over if you want.”

She shakes her head. “I want you to have the name. He would want it too.”

Of course, it’s partly because she can tell this means something to Clint. 

But Wanda thinks of a newborn baby boy, a new life, untarnished and unhurt. A life with her brother’s name on it.

Her brother’s name, still alive. 

“Take his name,” she whispers, “I want you to.” 

Suddenly, her brother does not feel as gone as he did a minute ago. 

And when she holds Nathaniel Pietro Barton in her arms for the first time, she swears she can feel him standing with her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me happy!


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